Frustrations and Personal Shoppers
by vonPeeps
Summary: One shot prompt fill: "Sherlock and Molly go shopping. Sherlock gets jealous when Molly gets compliments." Case fic set post HLV - just one interpretation of how these two might start to fix some of the cracks between them.


"Molly, be reasonable." Flummoxed by the flat stare aimed back at him, Sherlock backpedalled, "It's for a case…"

"No."

"What if I-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I really do. You've tried demanding, then appealing to my conscience, so next comes some kind of bribe. Quite a big favour, so it'll fall somewhere between a pack of quavers and the security system after… Jim. And when that doesn't work, flattery. After everything you've put me through… after you left and didn't even… if you think that all your old tricks will…" catching herself, reluctant to get drawn in to his web again, Molly dragged in a few calming breaths before choosing a careful response. "No. Ask someone else."

"Who?!"

"Mary?"

"Not possible, too pregnant for the clothes in this boutique. Plus, John might actually kill me if I involve her in another case this soon after Appledore."

"Janine?"

"Brilliant, go undercover with the woman whose main source of income is selling stories about me to the tabloid press – I'm sure no one would suspect a thing. _Fantastic plan_, Molly."

"Mrs Hudson?!"

"Although she would likely relish being called a – _cougar?_ \- I think it highly unlikely anyone would take us for an actual couple. Molly, it has to be you!"

"Why in the name of all that is holy does it have to be me?"

Turning to hide a scowl, petulance radiating in every move, the detective was, for once, lost for words. "Just does."

* * *

Feeling the panic prickling her skin, the stress rash spreading further up her throat and threatening to peek out of her collar, Molly repeated the cover story in her mind. All the while cursing the man currently escorting her down the street for dragging her into this against her better judgement.

_I'm Miss Margaret Hooper, and this is my… fiancé… William. I need a dress for our engagement party. It's at The Dorchester, 200 people, William is big in the city… finance. Budget is whatever, William likes to spoil me… I'm gonna mess this up. How on earth did he talk me round? I'm Margaret Hooper – God I hate using that name, feels like I'm in trouble – Margaret Hooper and this is my stupid fake fiancé who wants to work out which one of you is drugging and robbing your customers… Focus Molly! I'm Margaret Hooper and this is William…_

"We're here, Margaret. Remember why we are here?"

"Yes, _dear_. I need a dress and the personal shoppers here are _very_ attentive."

As he leant in towards her, an unwanted leap in her chest at the thought of another of those tender, chaste kisses pressed to her cheek, his lips instead grazed her ear with a low murmur, "Act like you actually might like me, Molly. We'll never get the information we need if you snipe at me the whole time. Set a trap to catch a thief and all that."

Pasting her sexiest smile on her face, Molly snuck one hand up to tangle in the curls that teased the nape of his neck, their faces mere millimetres apart.

"Fine. But I think you'll find it's 'set a thief to catch a thief'. Maybe its _your_ ability to act like a convincing human we should be worrying about?" Throwing another sultry look at him, she span on her heel and strutted her way into the shop, leaving only bewildered gaping in her wake.

"Right. Acting. Like me…"

* * *

It was the perfect plan. Researching the typical shopping habits of couples indicated the man was _expected_ to sit outside the room of curtains looking bored, and the woman had loud conversations inside to whoever was helping them. All he needed was a woman to accompany, and then he could observe all the employees to find the culprit. If it worked as a way of apologising to Molly, after all the… unpleasantness… all the better.

_Girl on the tills? Hair and makeup immaculate – obviously image conscious. Jewellery cheap but tasteful, has a good eye? Shoes have label left on the bottom… New Look? Not her – who hawks stolen engagement rings and doesn't buy quality footwear? Eliminated._

_Woman in the suit?. Frequent watching of people – customers? No, not security, wrong build, looking at… staff? Studying account records and lists of figures. Sales logs? Owner. Maybe aware of case, maybe additional theft of stock? Follow up later._

_Blonde in the corner, assisting woman with garish Prada bag? Deputy manager? Dark circles under her eyes, likely sleeping issues. Potential access to sedatives? Victims all report disorientation on day of theft. Clothes all designer, not from shop's selection, Westwood mostly – value above expected for employee if not owner of business. Text Lestrade for warrant… What can I hear?_

"… look so good, I'd marry you myself."

"I do look sort of pretty."

"Pretty?! Pretty hot, more like. That waist, those legs – lets slip out the back right now!"

As Molly's flattered giggles danced their way past the velvet curtains; at the gentle thump of a small hand on a firm shoulder; with every further compliment delivered by the deep voice, anger gripped its fingers tighter in his brain, driving him, screaming for action.

"If you are quite finished, that's my path- my fiancé you're talking to. You may think that you can use your looks to charm her, but I assure you that while better men than you have tried to distract her from her infatuation with me over the last six years, all have failed. Better run along to your wife – how is Sam getting along?"

Silence echoed around the shop, the murmur of shoppers stunned by the ring of curtains thrown aside and blistering deductions.

"S- Sam?"

"If you continue to attempt to seduce other people's partners, I suggest covering your tattoo and removing your ring in future."

"Seduce?! I was just making the sale!"

"Oh really? Marry her yourself? Slip out? This curtain room is hardly soundproof-"

"But… I'm gay. Sam is my husband."

* * *

Looking at the man slumped in the chair opposite, his pose a study in defiance and sullen temper, Molly knew it was up to her to start fixing things. Maybe she had let bitterness cloud her behaviour too long, but she couldn't let the poison between them linger on any more.

"We should talk about what just happened."

"What?"

"Your outburst. In the shop. We need to talk about it."

"Acting, Molly. For the case –"

"Bullshit." Pushing on past his horrified expression, Molly continued, "I've seen you act angry for a case, and it's a brilliant impression of John. Carefully leashed rage and precision blows –"

"John _is_ good at rage -"

"But this wasn't that. You could have blown the case…"

"Solved it – it was the deputy manager. Lestrade is –"

"I don't care what Lestrade is doing! I want to know what you were thinking of flying off the handle like that! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Jealous? Jealous?! Now she finally gets it! I come back after two years away, after telling you that I need you, and what do I find? A fiancé. You replaced me with a weaker, duller, _pedestrian _version of me and I'm expected to play nice. And I was, no deductions, no scathing remarks, he even said 'meat dagger' as murder weapon and I kept silent, for God's sake! If you were happy that was good enough, I thought…"

"Sherlock –"

"Then you broke up, and I gave you space, I tried to be patient. And yes, that business with Magnusson got in the way, but you slapped me. In front of everybody. And now, the first time we've felt like _us_ in months, I have to sit and listen to you flirting with that shop man like I wasn't sat three feet away…"

"_Sherlock-_"

"What, Molly?!"

"Shut up."

"I will not-"

"Seriously, just shut up. When you said you needed _me_, you didn't mean for corpses and medical contraband…?"

"Of course not, Molly – if I needed that, I would have asked Mycroft. I was trying to tell you that I… care. That you really are the person who matters the most… to me."

"I… matter?"

"The most."

"You know this doesn't fix everything, right?"

"I know. I just-"

"Shush. It's not completely broken either. But next time, try using your words. If you have questions, ask. If you're worried, tell me. There's no relationship without trust, okay?"

"Relationship? Us?"

"Maybe. Let's find out."

* * *

**Author's note: **

Filling a prompt from the lovely likingthistoomuch - sorry it took me months! Sherlock did NOT want to co-operate!

There was a spookily timed discussion on tumblr this morning about the problems with a Jealous Sherlock fic - would love to hear what people make of this one. I did my best!

Come join me on tumblr - I'm vonPeeps on there too :)


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